Chapter 339: The Great Wish of the Tai Ping Army, the Qilin, and the Changfeng Lady

"Wine… give me wine…"

A drowsy voice, mingled with the wild winds of the desert, murmured Wang Shunchen, but he received no response; within the desert's sounds was a peculiar noise that made his heart throb unnaturally, leaving him restless and agitated.

The sound was sharp, like an iron blade scraping across ice.

It was also like the finest rider of the Western Regions, galloping on a swift steed, cracking a long whip whose tip carried a blade slicing through empty air with piercing keenness.

It seemed someone was shaking his shoulders violently, shouting loudly: "……■■■■■■!!!"

Ice shards in his blood had turned into needles; that shock seemed to stretch from memory straight into today—Wang Shunchen jolted awake, sitting up abruptly, gasping for breath, calming his racing heart, his mouth dry and throat parched.

He seized the teapot, not caring what time the tea had been brewed, tilted his head back, and poured it down his throat, gulping it down with loud gulps; a cool sensation spread through him, finally bringing relief.

Wang Shunchen murmured the words from his dream.

The words were so familiar, yet he could not recall them no matter how hard he tried.

It was as if the words had struck him too deeply, causing him to unconsciously forget them.

As if he refused, would not, and could not remember them.

His eyebrows drooped, heavy with dejection; he felt sluggish all over—the Grand Marshal, the one who led them to conquer the world, was dead, as if all his past decade of campaigns, every battle fought, every bow drawn until his arms tore and his palms bled, had been false.

The bravest generals and the Grand Marshal were destroyed by all they had protected.

His mentor and father-like strategist had plotted everything; the king who once called him brother had raised the blade of slaughter—absurd, utterly absurd.

Loyalty and valor were but a fleeting dream.

When the Tai Ping Army marched across the land, what sustained their hearts was not, or at least not merely, wealth and glory, but the Grand Marshal's wish— the entire army's soul rested upon the Grand Marshal alone; in its prime, the Tai Ping Army looked down upon all under heaven.

Yet the Grand Marshal departed this world in the most absurd, most unjust way.

And thus the blazing soul of the army collapsed.

All past glories became a joke.

Wang Shunchen rose and walked to the window of the Great Flag Camp's hut, gazing outward from above; faintly he saw banners—those were the elite Qiang cavalry, their horsemen intermediate between heavy armored cavalry and light cavalry.

Equipped with long spears, bows and arrows, and on one side, eight short spears.

When charging with the momentum of battle, they hurled the short spears; these specially weighted spears were extremely dangerous in such circumstances, deadly to heavy-armored shield infantry and cavalry alike, while also excelling in swift raids, clad in scale armor and felt war robes.

Wearing helmets adorned with feathers.

Now gathered there in dense masses, Wang Shunchen squinted and saw the murderous aura of thousands of Qiang cavalry coalescing into a battle formation—the Western Regions' war array; such large tribes, like the armies of the Central Plains, possessed methods to gather the collective murderous energy of many.

"Qiang…"

Wang Shunchen fell silent, gazing at the war bow hanging on the wall; he reached out, grasped it—thirty years ago he had marched with the Grand Marshal; now he was old, his temples streaked with white, and as he gripped the bow, his tiger-like eyes flickered open, his qi converging into a divine form.

But at the final moment, it collapsed.

The Grand Marshal died at a palace banquet.

His heart shattered; he felt all past deeds were mere illusions.

His realm had fallen from the pinnacle of battlefield generals—the Master of the Archery Cavalry—to the peak of the Sixth Heaven, unable to easily summon his divine form, unable to unleash what he once did at the city gate: a single man, one bow, firing over three thousand arrows.

The feat of a single man suppressing an entire vanguard army.

Wang Shunchen let out a bitter laugh:

"This heart is dead—what use is there to revive it?"

"Even if it is a bow, if there is no reason to draw it, what good is it?"

He had told the chief of the Great Flag Camp: "These Qiang people have likely come for me. Though my heart is dead, they still believe my body must die before they feel safe."

"Please, Chief, let me go out alone to resolve this!"

The old chief refused, his beard and hair bristling like a white lion: "The brothers of this camp are all comrades rejected by the Central Plains' martial world; we have bonds of loyalty. They came here because they respect the Great Flag Camp—we have sheltered you, and we will never abandon you."

"Do you look down on us?!"

Wang Shunchen fell silent for a long time.

He had long stopped caring about the storms of the Central Plains; he knew this land of strife never lacked noble lords, nor heroes who drew their swords in this turbulent age.

But since the death of Tai Ping Gong, he had wandered in a daze for years, ignoring the affairs of heroes, wishing only to die drunk upon the battlefield; at first, he had heard news that in the northern lands, a Tai Ping Army had risen, supporting Tai Ping Gong's son—he had rejoiced.

But then he learned that Yuan Shitong and Xue Tianxing, those two bastards,

had somehow found some object, claiming it was the Grand Marshal's son.

They even sent envoys to invite him to lead the cavalry again—Wang Shunchen nearly shot the messengers into bloody pulp; after that, he gave up entirely, ceasing to care for the world or the martial realm.

He only heard the dust and wind speak of Central Plains' fragmentation, of warlords clashing.

There were rumors that the Jiangnan region had been seized.

And tales of Qin Wu Hou—he ignored them all.

He only wished to die drunk here; now, caressing this bow, his heart filled with death's resolve, he choked out: "So many heroes in this world—but when will I see the Tai Ping Army's waist token again? When will I see my archers of the Breakthrough Hundred-Protectors, bow in hand and arrows at back, once more? When will I see…"

He fell silent.

Before his eyes, a hazy vision reappeared—the familiar scene of ten thousand troops surging like tigers, at their forefront a figure wielding a long spear, clad in heavy armor and war robe, face masked in dark-gold metal.

In the haze, he could still hear that man laughing—

"You hold the bow and arrows, I hold spear and halberd—who fears ten thousand enemies?!"

Wang Shunchen choked: "When will I see it again?"

"That scene…"

………………

"So, Master, you do not require us to accompany you on this mission?"

The army of Anxi was already preparing.

Everyone felt a natural enthusiasm for following Tian Ge'er into battle.

Fan Qing looked at Li Guanyi, somewhat worried; the archers were the elite troops of the entire army, while heavy-armored crossbow cavalry and armored archer cavalry were the ultimate evolved units.

These men all used hard bows and hard arrows.

During battle, archer cavalry often fire a volley, then rearm with spear and saber to resume fierce combat, requiring soldiers to master their skills more adeptly than pure heavy cavalry.

Not just any ordinary battlefield commander can control them.

If mishandled, with too large a force of archer cavalry, they might turn their own comrades into hedgehogs.

Li Guanyi assembled ten thousand archer cavalry; most were merely robust tribal warriors, Batuer among them, all spirited, clad in armor and battle robes provided by enemies, wielding hard short bows designed for horseback use.

It was merely a pity due to poverty.

Gong Sun Huai Zhi could not fully arm this cavalry force.

The ideal scenario would have been.

These men rode beasts tamed personally by Lei Laomeng, carried repeating crossbows at their waists, wore full plate armor, wielded weapons forged by the Murong clan, and carried pouches of Hou Zhongyu's medicinal powder.

They were meant to be a toothed-to-the-brim, fearsome army capable of fighting any situation, yet now they were merely an ordinary force.

But after Fan Qing's training, they were disciplined, their formation orderly, and strengthened by repeated major battles to secure their current territory—their morale soared, already bearing a third of elite quality.

Li Guanyi waved his hand and said, "Don't worry, this matter is simple—I'll go myself. Fan Qing, you needn't be concerned; Daqi Stronghold is only a few thousand li away—we'll ride hard and arrive in days."

"Chang Sun, prepare for a while here."

"I'll return within ten days at most; then I'll accompany you to Xiyicheng."

Chang Sun Wuchou could only nod.

For this journey, Li Guanyi took troops, accompanied only by Fire Qilin and Yao Guang, the stargazing sorcerer wearing a sand-proof hood; the silver-haired girl ensured Li Guanyi's safety during campaigns in the Western Regions.

As for command, Khan Qibili and his Golden Curved Sword cavalry Commandants joined this force; should trouble arise, Li Guanyi would serve as general-in-chief.

Khan Qibili would act as deputy general, abandoning bow and arrow to become spear cavalry.

Though all carried bows, those who could master horseback archery would be even more skilled with their great knives and long spears; when archers were drawn close, they simply entered the second phase—though Li Guanyi did not understand archer cavalry formations.

But the formation of unified spear charges—he had grasped its true essence.

Who says carrying a bow means you must use it?

Li Guanyi took it in stride.

He also brought spare horses, carrying food and essentials to maintain stamina; just as they were about to depart, the Xue merchant guild arrived. Li Guanyi was surprised—calculating the time, his letter to the Young Lady had only just reached her.

It shouldn't be her reply yet.

Li Guanyi personally received the man and asked, "What is this?"

The Xue man smiled and replied, "We've brought many porcelain and tea wares for you to gift to allies. As for this item, it was painstakingly gathered by the Young Lady over this period."

He removed a large box and placed it solemnly on the table.

Carefully opening it, a chill spread out.

Inside lay an ancient battle bow.

Li Guanyi instantly recognized its extraordinary nature: its entire body was ink-black, with silk threaded in dark gold; bloodstains dotted its surface, resting on silk like a sleeping veteran—calm, yet radiating a chilling aura.

"An Xuan Bing-level battle bow?"

Xue Shan Guo said, "This bow is named Cold Mountain Moon Shadow."

"It was General Wang Shunchen's most beloved bow."

"After he earned great merit, Tai Ping Gong Li Wanli renounced his own reward and personally petitioned for it. Legend says eight hundred years ago, the Red Emperor led countless divine generals to jointly subdue the ancient, most vicious and poisonous beast, Fei."

"It was this bow that took the beast's life."

"Its blood stained the bow, remaining like Cold Mountain Moon Shadow, faintly crimson. General Wang Shunchen always treasured it above all else. But when Tai Ping Gong was ambushed at the banquet, General Wang tried to storm the palace to save him—that day, Murong Qiushui and you emerged."

"It happened precisely as he charged in."

"You were still young, unaware that General Wang Shunchen personally charged through the imperial avenue alone, holding off most palace warriors, using this bow to kill over a hundred palace guards, eyes red with bloodlust."

"Yet he also witnessed Tai Ping Gong's death—and then his heart died."

"He immediately said, 'You once gave me this bow to share the world, to slay our enemies. Now I cannot use it to save your life—what use is this bow?!'"

"He abandoned this bow and his armor, leaving the city in plain cloth, wielding only a wooden bow."

"Before departing, he shot three arrows at the city gate—in Buddhist terms, three lifetimes' bonds severed."

"The Young Lady learned these past events and spent months searching tirelessly to recover this bow. She entrusted us to deliver it here, saying, 'To untie a knot, one must find the one who tied it.' Since General Wang Shunchen's departure began with this bow, she believes it must be vital to him."

Li Guanyi calculated the time and said, "Back then, we hadn't yet contacted the Xue family—had you already departed?"

Xue Shan Guo replied, "The Young Lady said the Western Regions were calm, yet someone had suddenly risen—she knew it must be you. She also said that if the Western Regions changed, forces like Daqi Stronghold could not remain aloof. She ordered me to ride hard and come quickly."

Li Guanyi fell silent, lowering his head to gaze at the bow, and said quietly:

"Tell her thank you."

"I needed this very thing."

Xue Shan Guo said, "There is another item here."

He withdrew a small box from his robe and handed it to Li Guanyi. Li Guanyi opened it to find a golden glow within.

Xue Shan Guo whispered, "The Young Lady said the newly opened cities of the Western Regions are in ruins, needing silver and gold. Though the Central Plains are in constant strife, nobles in great cities live ever more extravagantly, spending gold like dirt."

"It has always been so: the more smoke of war, the more drunken revelry."

"Then let the luxuries of these decadent people fund your aspirations. In this way, they contribute their meager strength toward peace for all under heaven."

"The Young Lady says she has no Wu Gong and cannot fight beside you."

"But the Young Lady also says."

"What she said in the Academy was no lie."

Li Guanyi held the divine bow and the box, yet felt the Jin Zhu within weighed heavier than usual—so heavy he struggled to hold it—but he only said: "—Good."

Li Guanyi arranged lodging for Xue Shan Guo to rest.

He then gave the gold and silver to Po Jun and others to use.

Then, carrying the battle bow most deeply cherished by Wang Shunchen, he led his ten thousand archer cavalry toward Daqi Stronghold. Meanwhile, the Qiang nobleman, proudly commanding his troops and the Qixie Corps, was unaware that an army twice his size was approaching.

……………………

Chen State—

Guard Yicheng.

The sound of the brush touching white paper was faint; the young lady wrote letter after letter with calm composure, her brow furrowed, as the entire world's situation and secret rumors from all corners of the martial realm converged here.

In truth, over ninety percent of it was clutter and useless noise.

But her task was to find that single thread of useful opportunity beyond this ninety percent of clutter—indeed, it was a task that drained both energy and time.

Xue Shuangtao's face had grown slightly thinner.

Slimmed by three parts.

She rose, lifted her gaze, and stared into the distance, wondering whether Li Guanyi had received the bow she had sent earlier—this kind of news was not something she could learn from the Juan Sect records—when she was at the Academy, Li Guanyi had entrusted her with the antidote meant for Marshal Yue.

The young lady journeyed personally across ten thousand li, crossing the northern frontier passes.

Then she endured great hardships, but fortunately, Chen Qingyan and Chen Chengbi were by her side, and though perilous, she arrived safely at the Tai Ping Army, where she found General Yue Qianfeng—General Yue knew Xue Shuangtao.

Only then did she meet Marshal Yue Pengwu and personally hand him the antidote.

Marshal Yue was stern and icy; he swallowed the medicine in one gulp. At first, the medicine was fierce—his face changed drastically, he nearly spat blood, writhing in agony; the soldiers around him were stunned, drawing weapons and surrounding the young lady, their blades nearly touching her skin.

Xue Shuangtao did not flinch; she waited, drew a dagger, and pressed it to her throat, silencing the crowd: "If Marshal Yue dies from this medicine, then Xue Shuangtao will kill herself to atone."

All were shaken by her spirit and waited. That day, Marshal Yue fell unconscious.

He awoke only at nightfall the next day, vomiting copious black blood—but with it, his spirit revived; his heart, which had nearly turned to jade stone, began to heal again, and his spirit now mastered the poison, allowing his Wu Gong to recover.

He could now practice Wu Gong; the generals, convinced, all bowed in gratitude.

At that moment, the young lady wore only a dress, her hands folded over her abdomen, her voice clear and tranquil: "It is well that Marshal Yue is unharmed."

Yet after returning, her hands trembled violently; she clutched her chest, gasping for breath, still afraid.

The generals, upon learning of this, all came to pay their respects; Xue Shuangtao received them with proper etiquette and bearing.

She raised her hand and exchanged the ten thousand pearls she had escorted for gold, distributing it among all the soldiers.

Everyone received a share.

The soldiers and officers rejoiced, honoring and revering her deeply.

Thus, through Marshal Yue, Xue Tianxing, and General Yuan Shitong, she learned of the legendary archer's past—the fake son of Tai Ping Gong had never seen such a sternly beautiful woman; his heart stirred, and he wished to propose marriage.

Marshal Yue immediately overturned the table and nearly drew his sword to slay the man on the spot.

Xue Tianxing and General Yuan Shitong stopped him.

Xue Tianxing and General Yuan Shitong personally beat the man severely.

The three generals treated her with the honor due the Commander's Lady.

Throughout the Northern Frontier Tai Ping Army—from the lowliest soldier to the banner-bearer Yan Xuanji, to the spear-wielding General Yue Qianfeng, to the three former generals of Tai Ping Gong—all revered her immensely, treating this beautiful young lady as if she were their young master's wife.

No one dared disrespect her; anyone who spoke out of turn would be beaten black and blue by the soldiers, unable to speak again.

Xue Shuangtao always felt as though she were deceiving them.

She carried a quiet sense of guilt.

She reached up to rub her temples, then recalled her journey through the Northern Frontier, murmuring unconsciously: "It shouldn't have come to this yet…"—when at that moment, Qu the Steward, who had once sewn clothes for Li Guanyi, personally delivered a letter; the newlywed woman's face bore a light, cheerful smile:

"A letter has arrived from the Western Regions, Young Lady."

Xue Shuangtao exclaimed: "Huh? Considering the journey and timing, they should have just arrived—how could there be a reply so soon?"

She took the letters in hand—a pile of them—with messages for Xue Lao, for Xue Changqing, for Imperial Concubine Xue, and countless old acquaintances; Li Guanyi had written them all in one breath.

Xue Shuangtao asked Qu the Steward to leave; she sat in thought for a while, set the brush down on the brush rest, hesitated, then opened the letter meant for her—and as she did, a plaque fell out.

The wooden plaque was small, tied to the letter.

It landed on the table with a crisp sound; Xue Shuangtao's eyes paused, fixed on the plaque—its front bore only two characters: "Changfeng"; the back read 【Anxi】. She blinked, puzzled: "Strange—where is Anxi?"

"We have no Changfeng Tower in the Western Regions."

The young lady opened the letter and saw its words, calm and steady—Li Guanyi's style. The young man simply described his experiences in the Western Regions, and enclosed a leaf from a red willow tree, calling it a tree of the Western Regions, resilient and unyielding.

He spoke of his campaigns, of oppression in the Western Regions, of chaos, of the world's struggles—but said nothing of their bond. Yet Xue Shuangtao felt an inexplicable peace settle in her heart, a quiet smile touching her lips.

Then she saw the final lines:

"I have rebuilt the Changfeng Tower in the Western Regions."

"You failed to do it then—this time, I succeeded."

Xue Shuangtao could not help but smile; her clear, bright almond eyes seemed to glow, her lips slightly curved: "So now we're competing over who wins this? Guest Master?"

"You went to such trouble to send me this."

She tossed the plaque in her hand.

Then she saw the final part:

"The Changfeng Tower exists to seek out the four corners, gathering intelligence like the eyes and ears of the world—its burden is immense. In this chaotic age, we have neither the heart nor the energy to waste on personal attachments."

"I still send you this Changfeng Tower plaque."

"While I march across the land, you hold the eyes and ears within."

"Wherever I tread, the wind of Changfeng blows—every Changfeng Tower will be under your command. The world is vast, the heroes myriad."

"Shuangtao, will you be the one to paint the pupils into my Qilin's eyes…?"

Bearing the heritage of Confucian and Daoist traditions, emotions were expressed with restraint and subtlety.

Delicate, yet real, intense, and controlled.

He said nothing of love—only that the Western Regions were too vast, too empty, and without the Changfeng Tower, his heart felt unsettled; only that every corner of the world he walked through would bear your Changfeng Tower.

I march toward the world—will you, with your own hands, paint the pupils into the Qilin's eyes?

The young lady's motion of tossing and catching the plaque froze; the plaque slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the table. Her heart halted, then pounded fiercely.

Her almond eyes widened, and her face burned as if on fire.

Suddenly, a loud laugh rang out.

Xue Shuangtao jumped in surprise, clutching the letter to her chest, and saw Xue Daoyong, who had been at home these past days, appear before her; the girl grew even more nervous, saying, "G-Grandpa, what are you doing here?"

"I heard there was a letter for me, so I brought it to you and came to take a look."

"What are you hiding?"

Xue Shuangtao's face flushed red: "N-Nothing!"

Xue Daoyong laughed loudly: "Ha! My granddaughter's grown up—now she won't even let Grandpa see her secrets? I'm turning into an old relic!"

Xue Shuangtao said, "That's not true!" but refused outright to show him.

Xue Daoyong teased this granddaughter, who had grown quieter with age, no longer as lively as she had been at fourteen or fifteen, then happily opened his own letter, saying as he did so, "That brat—after all I've doted on him, he hasn't written in ages."

"He comes back, huh? Well, well!"

"He writes to Shuangtao first, and just happens to include me."

"He gives her so many words, and me—just one line!"

This tiger of the Xue family, now old, had begun to nitpick over such matters—Yan Xuanji cast a casual glance, then his expression froze.

There was only one line on it.

【I've become a Master】

The Wild Age Tiger's smile instantly vanished.

His eyes widened:

"Huh???"

?? Today I encountered some matters and was slightly delayed at work; sorry everyone.

? Chapter Two may be late; please rest early.

? But I won't be late—if I miss a chapter, I'll tell you in advance; if I don't say anything, I won't take an unexpected day off.